Rosario Cruz, is it?
by quinnlava
Summary: It starts out as a two-time thing, and nobody would ever know, until a certain dancer decides to walk in on you. But it doesn't end there. Who said it was meant to be easy? It has never been. Not with her. Not with Quinn Fabray. Rated M to be safe.
1. Chapter 1: Blur

**Title: Rosario Cruz, is it?**

**Summary:** It was supposed to be a one- well, /two/ time thing. And nobody would know, ever. But, what happens when karma knocks on your door?

**Rated:** M because of reasons.

**Pairings:** Quinntana, mentions of Brittana.

**Author's note: So, this is a small thing I've had in my mind for a while now, because, let's face it. The show will never acknowledge what happened between Quinn and Santana ever again, or show us Brittany's reaction, or anybody else's on it. I must point out English isn't my main language but, I did what I could, I guess? And grew the lady balls to post this just now. I'm all in for Brittana, but, let's just say Quinntana has earned a place in my heart as well, and both pairings are amazing in my opinion. **

**It was initially meant to be a one-shot but I might just write more, tell me your opinion on that, this is me wanting to let a few things out, enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I clearly don't own any of these things?**

* * *

**Chapter 1: Blur**

You can still hear it.

Several fragments of last night's events hit you just like that, and flash in front of you. From the sound your glass of white wine made when you clunk it with your friend's, to the very moment where you both decided slow-dancing was a good idea.

Then again, everything does sound appealing when there is a big amount of alcohol in your system. No wonder why you are where you are right now.

It's almost ironic. And funny, also. How you show up, meet up with people you basically had to stand for over four years or so, expecting it all to turn out boring and with you feeling miserable. It's not like it's been that long ever since you were brutally friendzoned. You wish you didn't have to attend the precious wedding but, what would that say about you?

'She is so heartbroken she couldn't bring herself up to show up, cause she knows they will both be there.'

Fuck it. You remember saying before you made up your mind. It's just a lame attempt of a wedding. How bad can it be?

When you get to church only to be greeted with a wave from /them/, you know you aren't gonna make it through it all without flipping. Reason why you probably showed up with that girl you had recently had a few arguments with.

Hey, it's better than showing up alone.

Sure, once you drank the entire bar with her all your worries vanished and, second by second you just refused to believe what came from her mouth.

_"You're killing it in that dress."_

_"I've never slow-danced with a girl before, I like it."_

The statements themselves don't get to you that much. It was just the way she said it. How it took you off guard and, you found yourself following her lead, whether it was serious or not.

* * *

As you sit up on the hotel room's bed, pulling the sheets up to cover your bare chest, you frown, whatever happened next that led you there is all blurry. Your dark brown eyes narrow a bit, as the image of you being dragged towards the elevator, only to be slammed against the door once it was closed comes back out of the blue and, you have to admit you are shocked because initially, you had your own doubts whether you started it all or not.

But it was her.

You remember the way her lips first felt when they came in contact with your skin in said elevator, and how instead of protesting you tilted your head back. Before it went further, there at least, you both snapped back to reality by the 'ding' lifts usually made before the doors opened. So you stepped aside, just because you didn't feel like falling accidentally that night.

She gave you around five seconds to catch your breath before leading you over to the room.

Room 216, you vaguely remember her mentioning it before.

The number was the last thing that crossed your mind, truthfully, at least in the very moment.

You bite your bottom lip at the following images, which consist on you being straddled by her on the bed, both of your dresses ending up across the room, body against hers, for example, as you laced your fingers with hers, because you knew she was nervous. The way her heartbeat, and yours, were one of the only sounds you registered, before your breathing turned heavy and erratic, and eventual pants and moans fill the room. How you smirked to yourself each time she moaned your name.

Before that you didn't know you wanted it but after all you wished was you could have her moaning your name daily.

"Not planning on saying good morning, huh?" A raspy voice questions you out of the sudden and, you move your gaze to your left, only to find a pair of hazel green eyes staring back at you amusedly.

"I was just thinking." you reply, trying to sound like it wasn't such a big deal, and running one of your hands through your already messy hair nervously.

Well thanks, Fabray.

"About what?" she insists, and you try not to roll your eyes at her, although the idea vanishes as soon as you feel her begin to trace circles on your side, underneath the sheets. You tense up when she leans closer and her lips barely graze your ear. "Last night?" she purrs teasingly and you swallow, relaxing into her touch afterwards.

"Not that into that, you said?" You counter back, and nearly regret it because she pulls away instantly and slaps your shoulder playfully; at this, you chuckle.

"If I'm being honest... I am glad it happened."

Wait. What?

Dark brown eyes stare back into Quinn's hazel ones in shock at the confession and, you blink several times before blurting out:

"Me too."

You are supposed to be the gal with the amazing gaydar around, yet you never saw that coming. At least, not your way. Generally you assumed Quinn would have a thing for Berry but. It just seemed like you had gotten it all wrong.

"Would you..." She cleared her throat awkwardly before going on. "Since we already did this twice..." Oh. You know where that is going. "It's not a bad thing, right? Why not making a third time happen?" As those words leave her mouth you literally feel your jaw drop and, funniest part, you are the one who leans over to connect her lips to yours.

It seemed like an endless circle now. In one night she had turned into something addictive. And you just couldn't say no.

This time you straddled her, and smiled proudly, when she pulled you close, while your lips left hers to focus their attention on her neck instead.

Knock knock.

...

Knock knock knock.

...

You groan, forcing yourself to pull away, whoever thought it was a good idea to interrupt just then had gotten into your nerves already, so you got up, picking up your underwear on your way to the door, and putting it back on, whilst Quinn covers herself with the bed's sheets. If you weren't so eager on making it a three-time thing, then why did you seem so upset that you had been interrupted?

_'It's about 3AM, so I hope Jesus is the one knocking on the door or something.' _You think, releasing yet another huff, not having a second thought on receiving the stranger half-naked. Maybe that will scare them off. At least you wouldn't have to give explanations, and then you could get to continue what you left off back there with your former nemesis...

Okay, what the hell?

You shake the thought off, deciding to continue that inner battle of yours later, and, with that trademark glare of yours already on action, you open the door abruptly; what you see standing outside makes you freeze right there, though, draining all the life from your features for what feels like an eternity, even if in reality, it had been less than a minute, possibly.

Not like you had time to count.

Or breathe.

Because the person standing right there, in front of you, is Brittany Pierce.

* * *

"Santana?" A taller blond girl asks, bright blue eyes scanning your shocked expression, and eventually noticing you have nothing on you but your underwear covering you up. "I-I thought this was Quinn's room?" she added hesitantly, before realization hit her. You stood there only, your mouth open, as much as you want to explain yourself, words won't come out.

And if Brittany had doubts, Quinn coming from behind to see who was at the door only confirmed the dancer's suspects.

The way her eyes open, wide, like plates, and how you can see the guilt in her eyes makes you assume your own expression is similar to hers in a way.

Perhaps even worse.

"H-How... Why?" She stuttered, both you and Quinn exchanged guilty looks, before the girl next to you spoke.

"Just let us explain.." She requested softly, because after all of that, she was still a friend. She did deserve an explanation right?

When she shook her head and stepped back a bit, you both just knew nothing good was going to come out of this.

"No... No this... Why did you do it?" her gaze then moved to you again and, this time, as much as you wished you could hold back, you couldn't help but feel upset.

"I am allowed to do whatever I want, if I may say." You had never talked to her like that but you were both grown up, having a serious talk had to happen eventually. "You moved on, Britt... Since when is it a crime for me to try doing the same?"

"But Q-Quinn.." She began, you already regretted talking to her in such a harsh tone because her eyes are getting all watery and that always gets to you. "She's our friend..." her voice trembled, and you shut your eyes closed, if there was one thing that depressed you instantly, it was that face she was making just then.

"It was a one time thing." Quinn intervened, looking just as anxious as you were. "Brittany, we just, I wanted to know-"

"It doesn't make it hurt less..." You hear her say and, by that point you don't know if you want to beg for forgiveness or just punch a wall.

"You are with Sam." You remind her coldly, the thought hurts a whole lot less but, it still bothers you that she acts like she could have the best of both worlds. No pun intended. "And yes, I love you, still, but Brittany, you asked me to try and meet other people, to get to be close with somebody I felt connected with."

"You have feelings for her?" That had to be asked. Of course, after finding her two best friends had been involved without her knowing or seeing any hints before did make Brittany curious. And all those scenarios where Quinn takes her place, the one she used to have in your life, all of them invade her and she feels scared, not to mention betrayed. These two girls were in the small list of people the taller dancer trusted the most and now, bam. Plot twist. Did she have rights to be upset about it though? She wondered. You were right, she was with Sam after all so why was this so important? Why did it feel so awful to witness this?

You ask yourself the same question, but the answer is just something you can't reach, yet.

"We are friends, sometimes friends hook up." Quinn tried to sugar coat the situation but it didn't seem to work that much. Deep down you both would have wanted said talk to happen differently, since the both of you are half naked and weren't initially planning on telling a soul about this. But of course Brittany herself had to be the first one to know.

"As close as we are, right now it's in Quinn and I to label this as what we think it was, but, please. Just give me the chance to talk about this later, at least." You highly doubt Brittany will accept, and when she just sighs and begins making her way back to wherever she came from, you just close the door and lean against it.

You screwed up. Badly.

"She needs time, S. Give her that, at least." Quinn says as she places a supporting hand on your shoulder, and you nod with a soft huff. Perhaps giving your ex some space is for the best now. The real serious talk could wait.

"I'm guessing that third time isn't happening, then?" You try to change the subject because right there you are just done with what just happened.

The one who wasn't so sure, huh?

"I have an idea, actually." Quinn's tone had changed back to serious and, you looked over at her in order to get an explanation. "We should go out, I don't know to get some coffee or something. Then we will see." Again you find yourself blinking several times like you had misheard. Because that most likely sounded like a date request. You had heard them before, you had /gotten/ them before.

Is she asking you out? ...Did April Fool's come early this year?

"Friends can go out too, Santana." She teased, before turning around to make her way towards the bathroom. In that moment you feel like you should be thinking of all those hints as something unnecessary but you find yourself quite curious on where that would go. So you nod, although clearly your friend isn't watching before answering:

"Sounds nice. What about a movie instead, though? My treat?" Lame. Lame. Lame, Lopez. Now it does sound like you asked /her/ out. When she turns around to respond, with a smile on her lips, you feel slightly relieved you didn't make a fool of yourself.

"Yeah, friends can do that as well." Quinn chuckles, and you roll your eyes playfully, shaking your head before joining her with a soft laugh. You stare at the other in silence for a while and decide to forget about everything else for a while at least. Brittany could wait, explanations as well.

For once you want this all to be about you having fun with no strings attached, in that moment, later you will figure out what happens after. So when she goes to step into the small room, and motions for you to come and join her, you don't even think twice before following like it had been a command, despite of it being an open invitation you decided to take without blinking.

Hey, it was just a shower. They didn't have to /do/ stuff. That, that was still not decided. Nor would you mind if it led somewhere else, at that point.

Who would've thought you would ever find yourself actually considering letting something happen between you and Quinn, right? Let alone, thinking about starting something. You'd call it a serious thing, if you really thought it was serious. Knowing yourself, and your blond friend, things could take an unexpected turn when you least thought they would.

You don't regret what has happened.

Perhaps, you wish your ex hadn't found out about this so soon but, for once, you want to force yourself to think, this isn't about her.

Is it about you? Or, you /and/ Quinn?

No...

It's about Emily and Rosario. And you like how that sounds so far.

"Are you going to stand there all day?" You hear her say, as she reaches out to grab your arm and, pulls you under the warm water the shower's head is emitting.

Your body is met by hers and, you can't help the smile that curls up your lips, as you reach up to run one of your hands through her already wet hair. The feeling is nice. It's not even something sexual, whatever that is, it just makes you feel in peace with yourself in the inside, like you would do anything to bottle up this moment and be able to cherish it forever.

That was when you realized.

Maybe it was more than a one time thing...

* * *

**Review if you liked it! Feel free to tell me your opinion on this :)**


	2. Chapter 2: Not So Crystal Clear

**Author's note: First of all, thanks for the feedback, I'm glad to hear people liked the first part of it all. So, by popular demand, aka most people who read on Twitter, I decided to make a full story out of this.**

**Let's see how it goes :)**

**Disclaimer: Obviously I don't own any of these things?**

**Enjoy, and review!**

* * *

**Chapter 2: Not So Crystal Clear**

The whole movie hangout goes much better than you thought.

Initially, a part of you definitely thought it would be awkward, considering neither of you would be intoxicated or, hungover for that matter. That, you would be forced to shove popcorn into your mouth and pretend you were actually paying attention to the theatre's screen, for at least two hours. Without even making eye-contact.

It turns out, you couldn't have been more wrong.

You laughed, shoved each other playfully, constantly mocked the movie's awful acting, and shared a soda, along with the large popcorn you bought.

You did say it would be your treat.

Funniest part of it all was when you started throwing handfuls of it at each other, like kids, almost. You did get kicked out of the cinema but that didn't ruin your night. It had been the most unexpected turn of them all, yet your favorite part of the night. You couldn't deny, you hadn't had so much fun in a very long while. Quinn was actually rather fun to be around, when she wasn't slapping you across the face or, trying to prove you were jealous of her.

And maybe you were.

At some point. Right now you aren't so sure about that. Or you just refuse to acknowledge it when it crosses your mind. You're too busy taking remains of the small food fight you had had back at the movie theatre out of your blouse to care.

You spend the night at her dorm, and her roommate is out. It was, without a doubt, the most perfect chance for the both of you to take one step further, yet again, but, you didn't.

Quinn doesn't say anything, and you don't either, but you are sure it has nothing to do with the fact that you're sober.

You actually sit down on the couch, as soon as you get there, and talk about your night, until one of you falls asleep. You're pretty sure it was you because, when you wake up the morning after, there's a blanket covering the both of you and, logically, you weren't the one who brought it. You don't wake up alone. Even though that particular piece of furniture isn't the most comfortable thing to sleep on, and that your back will be killing you as soon as you stand up, the fact that Quinn chose to keep you company, instead of using her own bed, seems rather nice of her.

Neither of you mention it when you're wide awake, though.

You prepare breakfast together and eat afterwards, making a joke here and there about the past night's events. Other than that, nothing more happens. Nothing out of normal.

Except...

When you are already leaving, having waited until the very afternoon to head back to NYC, and you're saying your goodbyes and all, you can't help but notice something different in the blond woman.

"We should do this more often." She points out, the smile on her lips seeming more sincere to you than anything else; she isn't teasing you, or being sarcastic for that matter.

"Just tell me when." You respond, and it's like you're there, but watching the conversation from the outside, because your voice sounds rather soft, and judging by the way she looks at you, you could say you're probably staring back the same way.

What seems to irk you, though, is your inability of understanding the relationship you two have. How, you can be fighting one second, then hooking up, and then? You're hanging out like you had been best friends for life. Which, casually enough, you have been. So why is it so hard for you to read Quinn Fabray?

It makes no sense.

* * *

Two weeks pass, and you either only speak through texts, or dream about her.

Yes. You actually dream of her. They go from fantasies, as if in straight-up sexual ones, to the simplest kind of dreams, where you two are hanging out, laughing, holding each other, like... Like a couple would. It's not normal. It's not normal to /want/ that, with somebody you simply just slept with at a wedding.

With your best friend.

Even less when you still don't know exactly where you stand with Brittany ever since she basically walked in on the both of you that other morning. The truth is that, she hasn't spoken to you ever since. Not even through a "I'm mad at you :(" kind of text.

You aren't looking forward to apologizing. What you did or will do, or are doing with Quinn merely doesn't concern the taller blond girl. Perhaps... It's about you wanting closure? She is still your friend.

You will see what happens from there. So far things have gotten beyond weird for your liking, and, a part of you wants to fix it all. But your concept of fixing things doesn't involve pretending nothing happened between you and your other friend. Or minimizing it.

That unless, she wants it to be that way.

So you decide to meet up with Brittany for a serious talk. She knows it's serious because you don't ask through a text message, you call her and, yes, she sounds a bit distant, but she doesn't refuse.

At least you are getting somewhere.

You offer going there but, she says that she doesn't mind being the one taking the train there, so she does. Her coming over sounds too risky, but then again, you can't really force her to come all the way to New York and not offer her a place to stay.

Your plan is simple. You will be picking her up at the station, and the talk will take place at that coffee shop Kurt goes to constantly, with the excuse that the coffee and brownies are so good he feels like suing The Lima Bean for serving atrocious attempts of eatable and/or drinkable stuff. Depending on how that went, you'd see whether it was better for her to stay the entire night there or not.

Your eyes search for hers at the station, you're completely unable to actually spot Brittany with so much people around, but eventually, and after pushing at least five men and woman out of your way, you find her sitting on a bench calmly, although she does seem to have been trying to find you, too. But she gave up on it.

"Hey."

"Hi..."

You stare at her for a few moments, waiting for that /something/ to click once again, for you to start feeling like you should explain her everything, and tell her that it didn't mean anything. But the feeling never arrives. You're pretty sure it doesn't for her, either.

"Should we go now?" You ask, holding out your hand so she doesn't have to carry her bag, and she nods slowly, murmuring a small 'Sure', before beginning to walk, having handed you her luggage, which is basically a small backpack that doesn't affect you at all when it comes to weight.

It's too early, and neither of you are really speaking, while you walk down New York's streets; you don't count single 'How are you?'s, or plain 'Fine's as a real conversation and you wonder when it became so dull for you both to get somewhere when you spoke.

You open the door for her at the coffee shop, and she smiles a little bit, choosing to sit by the window once you've told her you will order for them both. At least her usual order is something you know you can't get wrong. She always goes for a cappuccino with Oreos on the side, not too hard to memorize. You settle for the same thing, and sit back across her, tracing the edges of the warm cup with your fingertips, as you try to figure out what to say.

"Since when?" She questions, several moments of silence after, and your frown, a slightly confused look in your eyes at whatever she means with that. You shake your head, slowly, crooking a brow whilst trying to understand where she wants to get at.

"Since when what?" You respond, bringing the cup up close to your lips before you take a small sip of coffee, ignoring the extremely hot sensation as you force yourself to swallow.

She sighs, leaning back against her seat, before her blue eyes meet yours. "You and Quinn. I mean, I dunno, how long have you two...?" Brittany trails off, and your eyes widen in surprise, at the same time, you nearly choke on another sip of coffee, and place the cup down coughing.

"We're... We're not a /thing/.." You point out, clearing your throat. She tilts her head to the side, genuinely confused.

"So you just hooked up?"

"Yes." You say with an exasperated sigh, wasn't that clear by now? "We haven't done anything ever since..." Why do you even bother on saying that to her, though?

"Didn't you go out with her a while ago?"

"But. I, uh..."

Okay, how did she know that? Had Quinn been talking to her, or something? Perhaps those stupid selfies on Instagram had been taken the wrong way. "We are just friends..." You finish lamely, slumping against your seat in defeat.

The word 'friends' bothers you. But you can't get anywhere without knowing where she wants to get. And you haven't grown the lady balls to have that conversation.

It's all so complex for you to take.

"I dunno, Santana. It's just... It confuses me."

"That makes two of us..."

"When I knocked on the door and you opened it, I guess I was just too surprised. Maybe, I should have let you explain." Brittany adds, a bit more calmly, more like she would usually speak to you. That reassures you a bit.

"I would have done the same if the roles had been reversed, though. And, right now, I want to focus on figuring out where I stand with you both, you know? I don't want us to start acting all weird like, half of the people we met in that goddamn choir room after they broke up with somebody."

The dancer nods, taking a bite from one of the two Oreos on her plate, not hurrying on swallowing. It's almost as if she enjoys those a little bit too much. Then, she speaks again. "So where does that leave us?"

The question hits you like a bucket of cold water. You don't know. You want to know where you and your ex stand, but you are a complete stranger to that answer yourself. You were confident on it before you walked in. Now, you are having second thoughts on everything.

"I just want us to go back to normal, Britt." You offer hesitantly, and judging by the look she gives you, you should probably be more specific. "I want us to be able to speak without feeling like we are going to hurt the other, and just.. We were friends. Best friends. Even before we started dating. I seriously don't want to lose that." The seriousness of it all convinces you that it could be something she wants as well. You feel much better after saying it, maybe it's better to start off from there. You may not be in the position to be girlfriends anymore, but, did you ever stop being friends? With her, that could be kind of impossible.

When she stands up abruptly, you freak out a bit in the inside, assuming you've upset her, and that she is leaving just now. Automatically you get up from your seat too, but what she does next takes you aback a bit. She hugs you. It's not a tight bear hug but a reassuring one, one you return slowly, and sigh as she holds you.

"We are best friends, San. And, even if I can tell you don't know either, I'll try to be there and play the supportive role no matter what decision you make." Her words certainly made you feel like a huge weight had been lifted off your shoulders, and you knew you couldn't have asked for a better friend.

"Thank you..." You whisper, pulling away enough to be able to smile at her and you both sit back down, the tension in the air, between the both of you having dissipated by now. You're glad, things are better when you know you can handle them. "So, how has life been for you?"

"S'okay, I haven't done much... I am not dating Sam anymore." She tells you before shoving an entire Oreo into her mouth with a shrug.

"What? Did he make a bad impression of Britney Spears?" You snort, looking at her with amusement, because she doesn't seem remotely hurt. But, then again, it was only matter of time. Brittany was smart, she deserved way better than Sam Evans.

The fact that your comment makes her laugh only makes /you/ smile, because it's like nothing bad had ever happened, almost.

"I just prefer focusing on me right now." She said simply, but you aren't so sure of it all.

The rest of the conversation goes by just fine, you actually feel things slowly getting back to where they initially where to begin with. No arguments whatsoever, which is something you're really grateful for, but it isn't like you and Brittany are ones to argue. Quinn isn't mentioned again. And, a part of you is grateful because that's where you're confused the most.

You've headed back home in less than an hour, after the serious part of it all is done, and when you both get to the apartment, you wait for the feeling again.

But again, nothing at all.

This time you just don't question it, though. Kurt is visiting his father in Lima so you offer Brittany to stay in his room, and she takes it. By the time Rachel has returned, she just chooses not to ask why your ex is there in the first place, having learned not to get in your business when you give her that look indicating she just shouldn't.

You're taking things easy with her. At least trying not to make a snarky comment over every single word her and Hummel pronounce. But, obviously, it's hard not to. You're grateful they let you stay in their home in the first place, though. You're just not going to tell them yet.

* * *

You dream of Quinn that night as well.

...

_You open your eyes, and when you take a look around the bedroom you're in, you instantly figure it isn't your own. You've been there before._

_It's hers._

_You are wearing the same pajamas you were wearing when you went to sleep but, you are not so sure how you got to her dorm at all. Either way, you have no time to question it at all, because she enters the room, looking like she woke up not too long before you did, her hair is slightly messy, like that night, and a lazy smile on her lips when she sees you're awake as well._

"_What took you so long?" She asks softly, sitting down on the side of the bed as you stretch your arms; you don't say anything when she scoots closer but, once she has reached out to move a lock of your dark hair behind your ear it's like you've turned into a rock._

_Your cheeks burn, and you swallow as your eyes follow the trail her hand follows. _

_She traces your cheek with her thumb, and then your jaw, only to gently trace your lips afterwards, which makes your breath hitch. For a second, your eyes and hers meet, and that's when you really notice how fast your heart is beating. It's most likely going to jump out of your chest._

"_Quinn…" You murmur, as a warning, as if you were trying to let her know that if she does that, you won't be able to stop, once she has started to lean up close, lowering your dark brown eyes to stare at the practically nonexistent distance between your lips and hers, but she quickly quiets you by closing that space. It has you unable to react for at least the first five seconds, before you're returning it; your eyes close, and both of your arms have moved around her waist by then. Her own hands have moved lower, her fingers having started tracing circles on your lower abdomen._

_And they go up slowly, it's so painfully slow you protest with a wince, and you swear you hear her chuckle against your lips._

_She is the one to pull away, and you just stare at her like she had just told you she is planning on becoming an astronaut or something. She kissed you, she kissed you for the very first time ever since you slept together, and she liked it, if the way she stared at you was anything to go by. Because she knows how much you liked it, as well. Her forehead is resting against yours, and your chest is heaving._

"_What was that for?"_

_When she shrugs, only leaning forward to press her lips against yours briefly, you are amused by the way you move forward to get more of that sensation each one of her kisses brings with itself, once she has moved back yet again, making her laugh once again. But you can tell she isn't making fun of you. "I thought that's what you wanted?" She questions you, settling back at a reasonable distance to let you think. _

_You don't get it._

_How does she know that? _

"_I never said—"_

"_You didn't have to, Santana. We're adults, aren't we? I think you're capable of telling when something means more to you than you think it would have before."_

"_But, how can you know what I want, when I don't even know the answer myself?"_

"_Maybe we both want the same thing."_

_It's exactly what you wanted to hear. But you're not entirely sure whether you will let yourself believe it. It's too good to be true… So you try once again._

"_And what do you want?" The way you ask it makes it sound almost as if you were not only asking her but yourself as well. And she doesn't seem to be that hesitant on her answer when she leans close enough to be able to whisper in your ear…_

"_You."_

* * *

Your eyes snap open, and you sit up on your own bed, panting, frantically scanning the room with your sight only to confirm you are home, and not in Quinn's dorm once again. A heavy sigh leaves your lips and you room a hand through your hair in a soothing manner, to yourself, before reaching out for your phone to check the hour.

4:15AM.

You also can't help but notice how you've received a text as well, and when you see it's from Quinn Fabray herself, labeled as 'One of Quinn's nine personalities', you take a deep, reassuring breath before deciding whether you want to read it now or later on, when the sun is up.

You've already woken up, though, and the chances of you managing to go back to bed are extremely low.

You check the hour she sent it at, which just so happens to be 1:09AM, so, maybe answering just now would make you seem like you're desperate. Not like you care what she thinks…

You don't care. You don't.

Or maybe you could, you know, tell her you've started going jogging very early, as an excuse, only if she does ask.

"Or I could just tell her the truth." You respond, which is weird, because now it's like you're speaking to yourself. Either way you choose to embrace the strangeness of it all and open the freaking text.

**I keep thinking. I can't sleep because of it. It's driving me nuts. Jesus, Santana, what did you do to me? **

You stare at your phone's screen blankly, and you honestly aren't sure if what she says upset you or not, but you throw your phone on your bed and let your back rest back on the mattress. Where the fuck is she trying to get at with a _'What did you do to me?'_

'_It?'_

If she is implying you've turned her gay, you're most likely going to go all the way to New Haven to kick her ass.

Geez, why can't she try to be more specific with her questions?

It takes a lot of emotional strength for you to convince yourself you can't shove your foot up down her throat for something she didn't express the way she probably meant to, but you manage to convince yourself you can answer after half an hour.

**What /I/ did to you..? I'm not psychic. Be a little bit clearer next time you decide to text me at one in the morning.**

You get enough time to have breakfast with Rachel and Brittany, and even have a small chat about Brittany's plans after college and, you're quite pleased when you hear her mention she has applied to Julliard. She does deserve a place there, and you can't picture her anywhere else but doing what she loves the most in an institution worthy of her talents. Things seem to go well, until Quinn answers the text you sent that morning.

**You don't get it.**

You decide to take that conversation somewhere else, because judging by your ex's expressions, and the performer's, you can tell you look like an idiot after that four-word response. So you stand up, and head outside, closing the apartment's door behind you, before you dial her number.

It's not going to stay like that. Whatever is going on in that weird mind of hers isn't going to stay there for too long, she either tells you or just goes on divagating on her own because you aren't going to stand around receiving responses that don't really count at all because clearly she isn't being that honest.

…

"Santana—"

"What am I supposed to get?" You cut her off, sharply, leaning back against a wall, as the lady from the apartment above makes her way up the stairs, carrying two bags of groceries in her arms but you barely take a notice into it.

"You know, you can at least say hello before attacking me through the phone." You hear her say in that typically annoyed tone, and you can almost see her rolling her eyes at you.

"I don't know who you think you are, or if you think I'm not smart enough to 'understand' what goes on in that twisted mind of yours, Quinn but, I swear to god, if you don't tell me what's going on—"

"I was thinking about you."

Oh.

You reach that part of a phone call where you just can't seem to have gone mute completely, because there are many things going on in your head, yet you can't let any of them out. You almost pinch yourself to make sure you aren't dreaming again, and it only manages to give you the lady balls to answer, after what feels like an entire lifetime later.

Quinn is actually really patient, when you think about it.

"Thinking about me, how?" It's not even you wanting to tease her, but just showing genuine curiosity. What could she be thinking about you, that frustrates her oh so much?

"In a way that I should probably not be thinking of?"

"Is that a joke, because I really am not in the mood for jokes, at all."

"Do I sound like I'm joking, Santana?"

"Alright, then, let me ask you something else. What does that /mean/?"

…

No answer.

And then she hangs up.

"Fantastic." You mumble under your breath, clenching your jaw as you stare up at the building's ceiling. She wants to know what you did to her, but hell, she has _no idea_ of what she has done to you.

She ruined you, in so many ways, and now she is running away from it.

And to think, things were okay, just a few weeks ago. You can't really blame her; it was only matter of time for one of you to freak out, and whatever this was, it clearly had changed the friendship you had. If there was one in the first place, because, let's face facts, the relationship you and Quinn had was odd.

At some point of the day, you head out to take Brittany back to the station, and say your goodbyes simply, promising not to drift apart like you had before. You wouldn't let it happen again. And you really don't go out at all other than to drop your best friend on time so she could catch her train, it's saddening. Even more when you realize you've spent at least two hours checking whether Quinn has texted you at all or just showed signs of life on any other social network but deep down you know she won't.

She pisses you off too much.

You thought you were confused, and, one date made you think, at least, that she knew where this was going but it was way too clear already that she was just as lost. Perhaps more than you were.

**I have been thinking about you, too. In case you wanted to know.**

You fall asleep in the living room, and, with Rachel at NYADA, trying to show her extremely abulous teacher how worthy of studying there she is 24/7, nobody really stops you from using the couch this time.

It's kind of like déjà vu. Only this time, you're on your own.

* * *

It's the loud banging on the door that wakes you, and you only wish they'd take it easy on the door, since this time you didn't dream at all, so nobody is interrupting anything. Your hair is in a messy bun, and you take your blanket with you while walking over to check who could be trying to break into the place with such desperation.

"It better be important or a goddamn fire if you're knocking like that!" You warn them, grumbling while you struggle to open the door and keep your blanket around you at the same time.

Next thing you know, you're being knocked onto the ground, and a pair of soft lips are crashing with yours, the very much familiar taste of orange tic-tacs mixed with alcohol being the very first thing you register, other than the slight pain of your back hitting the floor, before you realize.

A very drunk Quinn Fabray just showed up at your doorstep.


	3. Chapter 3: Small Details

**Author's note: I tried to get on with the next one ASAP, because I really do love writing this. I do not know where some things will go but we will see... And I've finally got a computer to upload this so, here you go. (I know I said on Twitter that I'd update on Monday but, I got caught up with festivities, you don't even wanna know.) Follow santanalopass if you wanna know whether I'm actually getting stuff done or just messing with you. Not self-pimping at all.**

**Anyway!**

**Merry Christmas… (Kinda late) Enjoy, and review if you liked it/hated it! Tell me what you think :)**

* * *

**Chapter 3: Small Details**

It takes you about sixty seconds to react, and you mentally go through the past five minutes' events, in order to rearrange everything because Quinn Fabray just showed up at your doorstep.

Quinn Fabray just showed up at your doorstep, drunk.

Quinn Fabray just showed up at your doorstep, drunk, and kissed you.

She is kissing you.

You push her back gently, sitting up on the ground, trying to ignore the very much compromising position you both are in and she seems to be having troubles to even remain still as she straddles you, batting her eyelashes too much for your liking.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" You ask her, not as a reproach, but, it's not normal for people to appear out of the blue, intoxicated, and suddenly decide it's a good idea to attack your lips with theirs.

She watches you dumbly, licking her lips before she shakes her head, resting both of her hands on your shoulders, and just scanning your features like it was the very first time she had seen you. Quinn seems lost in her thoughts, in whatever that intoxicated state she is in is suggesting; and then she is leaning in to kiss you again. But you pull her back. And she pouts.

She legitimately pouts, right there, and then proceeds to rest her forehead on your shoulder.

The closeness is not bothering you but, in a way it makes you feel weird.

"I really hate you, y'know..?" Quinn slurs, and you snort, because well, of course she would say that. She is still gonna blame you for whatever is troubling her.

"You're frustrating." You respond, pushing her off you but obviously not strong enough to hurt her. She may be annoying as fuck when she closes up to you and the entire universe but you aren't going to cause any injuries she won't remember the morning after. "And you smell like you fell into a pool of vodka."

"I needed to c-clear my mind..." She replies, standing up carefully, although she does seem to be struggling a lot in order to stand still. The more she speaks, the more torn you grow. Now you don't know if you want to slap her or just... Shut her up in your own way.

Her logic is quite amusing though.

You roll your eyes, leading her to the living room, having chosen not to let this all get to you so bad, since the girl was wasted. So wasted you could almost feel yourself become slightly drunk by just standing next to her. "To clear your mind." You repeat incredulously, giving her a questioning look.

"I've been told I'm extremely spon... Spontaneous, when I drink. So I thought it would get me a clear answer on what you asked..." You slowly nod at her words, while sitting her down on the couch, at the beginning, kind of struggling to understand with all the hiccups and the slurring but, basically, you know one thing.

She has absolutely no idea of what she wants with you, so she drank probably all the way to your apartment, expecting to come to terms with it all.

"You're supposed to be smart, Quinnifer, I think you know better than to drink like that." You tell her, making sure not to be sitting /that/ close to where she is sitting.

It was still awkward.

"So what? I agreed on sleeping with you when I was drunk, and I convinced myself to come here, while drunk, too. It's like, nature now." She mutters and allows her head to rest on the cushions, basically positioning herself so her legs are resting on your lap; she closes her eyes, and you just wish your growing need to punch her was just as strong as the one you had to lean over there and return the kiss she had given you earlier.

Wait. Whoa...

Let's try to step back a little bit.

You're not taking advantage of your intoxicated friend at all, even if she is implying you already did.

"I didn't put the drink or fake ID in your hand, did I?" You say through your teeth, growing annoyed towards her way of justifying it all with the 'I was drunk' excuse. Too used. Really.

You aren't looking at her but you know she sat up and is now staring at you once again, this time looking... Furious.

Oh, crap. Just what you needed.

"You confused me. And that's why... That's why I hate you so much right now. Because, I really don't. But lord, I was so damn sure of myself, but you had to show up, with that dress and your- your confident smile and I fell exactly where I was a year ago!" Her way of rambling, while drunk, would scare anybody who hadn't witnessed it all just yet, for sure, because she gestures with her hands a lot, the slurring and her voice constantly cracking making it hard for you to know if she wants to scream or cry or, hit you, for that matter. It usually means she is mostly ashamed of her own choices. You have already seen it before.

You have seen her freak out like this.

Maybe she doesn't remember it but, you do.

You can't just forget how, when you first undressed her back in that hotel room, she seemed beyond shy, not that confident about her looks or, whether she would be good at it; how you slowly led her towards the bed, and gently ordered her to sit down on the edge of it.

How you settled between her legs, silently promising you wouldn't hurt her as your hands got their first chance to explore every single inch of skin, your lips placing soothing kisses on her shoulder blade, and eventually meeting hers, or how you tightly held her hand while your left one was occupied trying to make her climax. You went slow on her. And only increased it all when she allowed you to.

Alcohol can get you to be quite flexible on that area, so you didn't protest but, once things got heated, so to speak, they never turned back. Nobody stepped back. Or thought of it.

Because in the very moment it was just the both of you.

She seems to have gone into a deep rant about what her mother would think if she knew what had happened between you and her by the time you snap back to reality. It's a good thing, though, because the very last thing you needed was to her what her overly religious mother would think of you, her lesbian friend, the only one she has, and Judy Fabray still doesn't entirely approve of, sleeping with her daughter. She would probably try to burn you down.

Was there something to label for what you had with her, though?

You doubted it. You actually doubted a lot of things, and that was a thing you did a lot thanks to her lately. At least you knew she was experiencing the same problems. Although you did wish she wasn't so… Whiny about it.

"Quinn." You cut her off abruptly, using that firm, cold tone of yours that never fails to make the blonde tense. The fact that she is drunk only makes things easier. Her mouth opens for a second, as if she is hesitating on speaking, but in the end she chooses not to. Wise choice, in your opinion. "Do me a favor."

She purses her lips together, lowering her gaze, almost anticipating what you're going to ask.

"Yeah?"

"Shut the fuck up."

When she leans back against the couch with a huff, you have to resist the urge to show any signs of satisfaction at how a few words were more than just enough for you to get her to stop speaking.

And to think that, a few weeks back, you didn't even have to use words to shut her up.

"Listen to me, for once in your damn life, would you?" When you give her that option, you're rather pleased to see her nod only, her hazel green eyes lost, glued to the ceiling. "First of all. Do you remember _everything _that happened that night?" Yes or no questions. If you had to treat her like a child to get somewhere, even if she was more out of it than a driver in a Sunday morning, then you would.

You observe as she seems to have a tough time figuring out whether she does or not. Five minutes pass and, nothing. Perhaps you aren't the most patient human being on earth but, you should have known this wouldn't go anywhere with her in that state.

She probably doesn't remember the part where she is the one to start it all.

"This is going to take a long while." You state with a deep sigh. With that you get up, heading straight towards the kitchen to prepare coffee since A) She will most likely need it, you need her to get serious, and B) Judging by the direction this talk was taking, you'd surely be staying up for a long, long time, so you open the cupboard and lean up enough to be able to retrieve two mugs from it. You may not be tall, but you're grateful you aren't Rachel Berry, or else you would be unable to reach them.

Just when you're about to turn around, though, you feel a pair of hands on your sides, and nearly drop one of the mugs.

Fuck.

It's not the gesture that takes you aback, but instead, the fact that her lips are ghosting over the back of your ear, that makes your legs go weak.

"Stop." You say firmly, having placed the mugs aside by now, gripping onto the edge of the counter with both of your hands. Your body has tensed up, and you're staring at nothing as she chooses not to follow your order, since that's pretty much what it was, an order; you swallow at the way she whispers _"I can't help myself"_ before lowering her lips to your neck.

She's like a politician, stating something and eventually doing the opposite.

This time you're sober, though. And angry. You're angry because she plays with you, and suddenly expects you to be okay with it.

You're tired of her constantly changing her mind, tired of her getting your hopes up, it's too much for you to take in less than a month. You can't even deny it anymore. It's obvious, too obvious, that you're growing feelings towards her. Strong ones. You have started to realize it's no use to fight it, so why can't she do the same?

* * *

You turn to face her, and grip on both of her wrists, only tight enough to be able to hold her back and flip positions. Now she is the one pressed against the counter. And she seems considerably shocked that you actually did something about her actions, if her widened eyes were anything you could go by. You are basically throwing daggers at her with your eyes and, it's like she feels it because she stops trying to free herself from your grip.

"Do you think this is a game to me?" You ask her, slowly, and in a quite resentful tone, perhaps too much for her liking.

Quinn shakes her head, never looking away from your dark brown eyes. It's like just being talked to like that had sobered her up in a split second.

"Good. Because I'm _sick _of you acting like you can just come to me when you're bored, act like you actually mean everything you do and then back off, with the excuse that I confuse you. You know exactly what you want, don't you?" The way she seems to consider the question, or her answer, whatever it is, sort of makes it look like she's more afraid that her own answer is correct than anything else.

Like finding out the truth about herself scares her. You can relate to that, in more ways than anybody could ever imagine. And the fact that you seemed to be falling for somebody you claimed to hate so much, ever since you two were little, which already felt like a lot, only proved it. It was kind of like reading a book.

Noting the fact that you're not exactly one to read so much.

The cover is always what gets your attention first. Always. With Quinn, over the years you always found her attractive, even when you couldn't accept the fact that you were a lesbian, you wouldn't hesitate on taking note on how pretty the girl was. It was something you had gotten used to, to the point where, it had become normal for you to see her the way she was. Or at least, the way you thought she was.

You've known her since kindergarten, and truthfully, you're ashamed to say it took you so long to notice the smallest things. Small things like, how she has the tendency of playing with a lock of her hair, when she reads. Or just the general statement alone that she loves reading, everywhere. How she bites down on her bottom lip when she is nervous, embarrassed or just too concentrated on certain things.

Her odd obsession with the color yellow or light blue.

They had been there all along, but you saw past the surface of them all just now, and clearly cannot help but find it… Endearing?

"I know." You hear her say, and she has leaned closer to you now, having taken advantage of you loosening on the hold you had on her wrists to be able to speak quieter, yet clearer.

"Then what are you so scared of? Is it, what people may think, because I can guarantee you they don't care. At all." This time your voice softens, it's more reassuring; you hate having to push her to make up her mind but if you don't, then who will? It's something that affects the both of you, after all.

It's in you only to attempt to get through it. To move forward so you're happy, and so she is happy, too.

"I don't want to ruin things. I'm scared of getting hurt. Of, finally having something I get to call perfect and good in my life, and screwing it up…" She pauses, and you feel a lump in your throat at how easily her voice seems to be close to breaking. It's devastating to watch but you try to remain strong on the outside. "Santana, I don't want to lose it. It's something I know I don't even have, but risking it, and actually losing it would be too much for me to take. I can't. I can't do it." The blond girl repeats, and her eyes are watering, you can tell, even if she has started looking somewhere else, just to hide it from you.

"I don't want to lose you."

You understand now, at least, her reasons to be acting the way she has been, but it seems unfair to you, still. She has lost and found too many things she cared about, and if you had been put in her position, in a position where it seemed like life didn't want you to have any source of happiness near you, you'd probably be frightened too.

And you've lost things, as well.

But thinking about it clearly. It doesn't begin to compare to Quinn's life. Sure, you always tried to impress your parents, to make them proud, and show them what you were capable of. But her? They always wanted more. It was never enough, and Quinn's growing need to please everybody started destroying her in the inside.

Your mind goes back to Beth. To her downward spiral during senior year, and you feel guilty for actually thinking a haircut would be enough to make her feel better, and fix everything.

If anything, it had only made it all worse.

You could have listened. You could have tried to figure why she wouldn't answer anybody's messages during summer, when the whole makeover thing happened.

Something inside you definitely flutters when she speaks of you like some source of happiness. You're figuring things our just now, and it's like she is already so sure of it. It must be easy for her to tell what makes her happy and what doesn't though, right?

Who would've thought you'd mean so much to _the _Quinn Fabray?

"You're not going to lose me. Ever. You're going to have to try way harder, if you ever want to get rid of me." You're not serious at all, and only trying to ease the tension somehow, but it comes out more as a promise. And you can feel it becoming one between you and her.

You release her wrists and, slowly reach up to wipe a tear off her cheek. One thing was for sure at least and that was, that you hated seeing her cry. She cried a lot, and you did too. But you were deciding, just now, that you didn't want to have to witness that ever again.

It would be in you to do whatever it took to make sure she didn't. One more promise you'd keep to yourself in fear of sounding too much like a hopeless romantic, because you didn't feel comfortable like that. But you would do it anyway.

This time, when she closes the space between you and her, you don't stop her. You let one of your hands to caress her cheek gently, while your free one's fingers lace with hers, and her arm brings you closer. She believes you, and you know it because she has understood, at least, that she doesn't really need words to prove so. She's still insecure about it all, but she does believe what you say. You sigh, once your lips and hers connect, and are rather pleased, and surprised, all because of the tenderness of it all.

It's the softest kiss you've shared with somebody.

And there's no ulterior motive for you to be doing it, or her. You don't want anything in exchange or, are trying to convince her of anything at all. It's all about going with the flow.

You wish a kiss like this didn't taste so much like cheap vodka but, in the very moment it's the last thing that goes through your mind. You can tell you'd be cherishing this for a lot of time, because it's exactly like you'd heard a real kiss was like.

Not too slow. Not too rushed. It seems endless and so short at the same time. You're floating, and you have to hold onto her tighter or else you'll surely float away…

Hopeless romantic.

But it's worth it. It's definitely one moment you wouldn't change for anything at all.

You're forced to pull away due to the lack of air, but it doesn't mean you separate from each other. Like in your dream, your forehead rests against hers, you're both breathing heavily, catching your breaths, and your eyes seem to allow you to have one of those silent conversations. The kind only you both would understand at least.

You don't realize you're still holding her hand until her thumb brushes the back of your palm. And you like that. The feeling it gives you is one you could live with.

"I like you." She breathes out, and even if it doesn't seem like it, to you it's already a huge step for her to be saying that. Then again, the boose could always be giving her enough confidence to be speaking like that; once more, you don't question anything.

You know exactly what she means.

"I like you too." You respond, and she smiles at you. You realize it's the first time she does ever since she basically burst into the apartment, drunk. Had her smile always had that effect on you? The kind that, you just have to look at for a second, before realizing you'd actually do anything to keep it on her lips?

Probably. But now, it was sinking in harder than before.

"Do you want me to leave for the night?" She whispers, having let go off your hand, only to have both of her arms around you tightly. In response, you give her a weird look, and shake your head.

"Are you insane? With this hour, and that face of yours? You're staying until tomorrow." You don't even give her much of a choice anyways, but she doesn't say anything about it. Actually, you don't know if your mind is playing games with you but you're almost a 100% certain you saw her blush.

You're getting good at this; clearly, so much you mentally congratulate yourself for that one.

* * *

Considering her still slightly drunken state, you notice when you lead her to the area of the apartment that is your own room, and she trips, almost, twice, you know nothing can happen between you and her. And you don't want anything to happen.

For once you wish to take it slow. You actually want to take her out to have dinner if it's possible. To do small, _cute _things for her. To make her see she does deserve happiness in her life.

That she won't lose it.

It's like you're starting to know her. To really, really know Lucy Quinn Fabray. Not Quinn, the cheerleader, or the prom queen nominee. Not even rebel Quinn, with tattoos and piercings.

Whether the both of you want to admit it, Emily and Rosario represent that part of you that you'd never let anybody see. It had been all about the luck, when your true selves collided. And there were no labels, because you knew what it meant. You wanted no strings attached, but now you do. Whatever attaches you to her, even if it's a leech or something, you'd take it.

You want to show her Rosario Cruz wasn't just the result of lots of champagne and tequila shots, and loneliness.

You offer her something a bit more comfortable to sleep in once you're both in your room, and she does agree on using it. But only if you let her shower first. She does have a point, and maybe it would be better for her, since a hangover is the worst thing to wake up with so you show her where the bathroom, and everything else she'll need is, before you return to your own bedroom.

You'd wait for Rachel, but ever since she heard of those Funny Girl auditions? It's almost as if she lives at NYADA, but, who are you to complain, when you kind of love having the apartment to yourself? Kurt would come back from Lima the following morning, so at least you got to enjoy it a little bit. Instead, you choose to lie down. You debate on whether you should try to sleep now or, wait until Quinn returns, but you doubt seeing her with only a towel around herself would help you to 'take it slow', like you previously stated. You go for a neutral choice and lay there with your eyes closed, thinking more than trying to find a way to force yourself into sleep. You don't think of the label whatever this is has, because you don't feel like you need one. You know you want to be with her and she wants to, as well. That's all you need for now.

You've drifted into very deep thinking by the time the curtain separating your bedroom from the rest of the apartment is open, and it's only when you feel the mattress sink a little that you come back to reality; Quinn moves the covers, enough to slip underneath and, scoots close to you, her blond locks kind of wet but, either way you don't worry about the pillows getting drenched or anything. You just worry about your arms not being enough to keep her warm at night.

It's nice to have somebody next to you, while lying there, though. You compare the sensation to ones from previous dream sequences you experienced, and it doesn't even begin to compare.

She can't stay there forever. But to you it feels like you both could.

Running your fingertips over her smooth skin, on her arm, you look up at her. The way she stares, curiously, like she wants to try something, it makes you more curious than you ever thought. And when she motions for you to turn to the other side, you frown in confusion, your mind going to other places you're not so proud of.

Dirty ones.

Then again, not so much.

You do it anyways. And you wait. You feel her arms move around your body and pull you closer, and that's when you realize.

You're spooning.

You've never allowed anybody to do that, because it obviously felt too awkward for you when there were no feelings involved. And usually, when you shared beds with somebody, it was only because you had to or because you'd been with them; as soon as that was over all you wanted was to either sleep, or eat. Plus, too cheesy.

Your hands find their way quickly and rest over hers, as you once again let your eyes close. You want to laugh at how you had basically become one to do basically everything for her, and you do, earning a questioning hum from your partner.

"It's nothing…" You reply quietly, keeping your eyes closed, you adjust the blankets, only so they're covering you both perfectly, before you mumble "Goodnight, Quinn."

It's not what you would call safe land, but you're getting there.

"Goodnight, Santana." She mutters in a quite exhausted voice, snuggling against you with a content sigh, yet before you can tell if she added something else, you're knocked into sleep just like that. Maybe the peacefulness of it all relaxed you enough to find sleep so quick, but you're not one to really complain. It's the first night you don't struggle to fall asleep, it's the first night you actually get to say you went to bed, happy, with no concerns or any weird feeling bothering you at all. And the reason why is more than simple.

It's because she's there with you.

* * *

**Hm, paradise… Should there be troubles in paradise soon? You tell me. Hope you liked it!**


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